Zoya hears her mother call her name from downstairs, so she gets up and heads down.
As she gets to the top of the stairs, her mother pulls her back and whispers, "Don't go there, I heard it too."
Zoya Zinadine, an executive interior designer of Gate...
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*Zoya's POV*:
Shocked. Frightened. Dumbfounded.
I sat on the ground right in front of the mirror with my palms covering my face.
"Can someone simply explain to me what the hell is going on?" I cried.
"Why do you do this to me, Aunty Farah? Have I ever hurt you in any way? What do you want from me?" I asked, looking at the mirror. "Go away! You're scaring me," I screamed and let out sobs.
I heard someone tapping the door of my bedroom very hard. I turned around, scanning the entire room with tears flowing down my cheeks. The tapping gradually increased, and I walked to my door... slowly... to make sure nobody hears my footsteps. I wiped my tears before unlocking the door.
"Are you crying?" My mother asked, pulling me into a hug. I couldn't utter a single word because I am speechless and I am hundred percent sure that no one would believe me. I controlled myself from breaking down in front of her. She was patting my back up and down, bombarding me with questions... With questions where I, myself, have no answers for.
"What brought you here, mama?" I asked her, ignoring my cracky voice.
"You might not want to hear what I'm about to say now," she said with tears in her eyes.
Oh wait? Is everything alright?
"Is it anything to do with Adiva? Is she-"
My god! Is Daaniyal alright? I snapped at him, asking him to hang up. Did he meet with an--
"Aunty Farah," my mother said, shoving away my bad thoughts away.
"What??!!" I yelled, widening my eyes.
Does this mean that she's here?
"Aunty Farah passed away sometime ago. We just got a call from her daughter," my mother said, crying.
"Innalillahi wainna ilayhi rajoon," I said, shocked.
But wait.
Aunty Farah?
What did my mother just say? No way! I think this is all a bad dream. This cannot happen. I just saw her... Maybe five minutes ago?
"Why do you look like as if you murdered her?" My mother asked me with a lot of questions written on her face.
"She was here," I said, stammering and crying in fear.
"Please Zoya. She's dead and what are you even talking?!" my mother asked, disappointed.
She didn't allow me to answer her.
"You must have thought about her way too much and you would've seen your shadow and thought that it's her, maybe?" She asked, patting my shoulders.
